Safe
by CMW2
Summary: NOW A WIP: She was Olivia Pope, not Alex Jones, not Julia Baker, and she was a mess;In this AU of 4x16, instead of Alex seducing Russell to feel alive again, Olivia decides on a better course of action, a course of action that starts with a phone call to Fitz;HEAVY SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 WITHIN;Rated for language, imagery, and later Olitz lovemaking;4th in my 2016 SSS Project
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** **Okay, so normally, I put all my new ideas in Draftbook Drabbles but it's been a long time since I did an AU canon compliant standalone fic ala** _ **You Are Mine**_ **,** _ **Living The Dream**_ **, and** _ **Devotion**_ **.** _ **The Thunderbolt**_ **is in its homestretch and that means that there will be room for a new SCANDAL-ous WIP from me. It's likely that I'll pick one of the AUs I came up with in the D.D.s (pick your favorite and let me know!) but this has potential, too. So, in 4x16, before Liv/Alex decided to get up on Russell, she had a PTSD/panic attack in the swanky bar's bathroom. I always thought that it was because she was trying to make herself be bold and brash when she just needed to feel in control and safe.**

 **I disagreed with the idea of her just using sex to do that (band aid over a festering bullet hole) so what if she had chosen to reach out to someone that she knew that wouldn't hurt her, that she knew that she could trust fully and that she knew wasn't B613 or some freelance psycho? What if she stopped running away and ignoring her trauma, along with all of her Issues? What if she had reached out to Fitz? This one shot will explore that option and lead to some long overdue housekeeping in Liv's personal life (y'all know what I'm talking about…) along with my version of The Return of Doux Bebe to its rightful place and just…yeah. Indulge me in my Olitz FEELS. Enjoy the latest and more fics/updates will be from me soon.**

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

He may not even answer.

In fact, Olivia Pope would be shocked if he did. Given how well their last conversation had gone, given what she did at the end of it, spurning him and blaming all her problems on him once again…it was well within Fitzgerald Grant III's rights not to take her phone call. He could answer it just to tell her to go to hell and to leave him alone forever. He could even take a leaf out of her book and throw his phone in the trash or smash it to smithereens. He could give a standing order to ignore all of her calls or for her to be informed that he was with his family, in a meeting, a briefing, that he was doing something very Presidential, very important, so he couldn't just drop everything for her, not that she deserved it.

She supposed that she could get dressed and go to him. She could go to the White House to see him, but she could be turned away at the Gate. She could be let in, get all the way to the West Wing, and he could turn her away. He could have Lauren or Charlotte or Louise turn her away. Cyrus could run interference or Abby could…she didn't have a place in the White House, anymore. She had walked away and he had filled her role there, filled it well. That was why she had walked away that Night. That was why she didn't go in to join him with Abby and Cyrus. He looked so peaceful without her, so strong without her, so much better off without her.

He looked so happy without her around him.

He hadn't looked that happy since before…since before It happened, the big horrible It that changed everything and everyone forever.

She had done irreversible harm to him when she left for the Island after It happened. She had done irreversible harm to many people when she left for… _ **ran away**_ to the Island but him, most of all. The fact that she hadn't gone alone, that she had taken Jake Ballard with her salted the wound, as did her strident demands to get him freed from prison, demands that didn't even matter in the end…he was well within his rights to tell her to go fuck herself.

Olivia had treated Fitz horribly, demeaned and spat on every bit of devotion, every bit of care he showed her. She always had. This year was just the latest and worst example of that. She had used him, repeatedly broken his heart, and made him feel like he was nothing but a means to an end to her. If he took her words and actions at face value, if he finally cut her out of his life as nothing but a source of misery, it would serve her right.

The line rang once, twice, three times, and then…

" _Hello?_ "

"… _hi."_

"… _hi. Are you okay?_ "

"…no. No, I'm _ **not**_ okay…"

" _Jake's in the Oval with me right now. He says that he can be to yours in_ …"

"I don't want to see Jake. I…I know that I have no right to ask but…could you…I…I need…"

" _What do you need, Olivia? Tell me._ "

"… _ **you.**_ I need you. Please come see me? It doesn't have to be for long…"

"… _I'm on my way._ "

"You are?"

" _I am. I'll be there before 9._ "

"Okay. Thank you."

There was a long pause and then the dial tone sounded in her ear. Hanging up her cell, she set it on the nightstand next to her landline before checking the time. It was 8:05PM. With the time it took to get out of 1600 Penn incognito and with light traffic, he should be arriving at around 8:45, 8:50 if he took the stairs up.

Standing up to look in her full length mirror, Olivia looked hard at her reflection. She wore only her pale yellow robe and her hair had air dried into now mussed long coils. She looked exhausted and miserable and far from what she had initially planned. With a sigh, she looked away and around her bedroom, shaking her head with disgust.

The black leather mini dress lay discarded in the chair by her window, along with her new underwear and mile high patent leather gladiator heels. All of it had been hastily removed as soon as she locked her front door, windows, spare room and half bath doors. All of her curtains were drawn shut and her loaded gun was secure between the space of her mattress, headboard, and wall with the safety on, ready to be used on an intruder. She would shoot to maim and kill without hesitation.

She would not be easy pickings again.

Along with the Dress, Olivia had purchased a snow white lingerie set made of sheer soft lace, cut and dipped to accentuate. A new perfume scented her with honey baked clover and before she put on the lingerie, she had applied a shea body butter that not only hydrated but gave her a soft, glow, a glow that screamed 'touch me'. She had gone to a salon for a Brazilian wax, a mani-pedi, and to get her hair waved professionally. She had felt pampered and confident and just ready to go out, find a man, and to regain some control over her destiny, to gain some much needed pleasure…

She had met a promising candidate at the bar. Mr. Franklin Russell had been tall, dark, handsome, articulate, and charming. He had made no secret of his interest in her and it had felt good to flirt, to be 'Alex' instead of Olivia for a while…until it didn't. The panic attack had come out of nowhere. Why had it come?

Maybe it was because of the risk of someone recognizing her, maybe it was because of how small the bathroom was, maybe it was because one of the accent walls in the hallway leading to the bathroom had been **RED** , maybe it was the idea of being so vulnerable with a complete stranger…who knew who they really were? They could be anyone or anything. They could take her captive again, lock her up in a labyrinth cage of horrors again, a cage that she wouldn't be able to put herself on the auction block to escape from again. They'd just send her to a hostile territory, to a paying predator's bedchambers, or straight to her grave.

Of all the options, she preferred the third.

They could be a local predator, an urbane and charismatic monster, preying on vulnerable women to sate their deviant appetite for sex and bloodshed. She could end up entangled in their web, repeatedly violated and then killed to ensure her silence.

They could even be a clandestine Operative or an Assassin, given the current circumstances of her life. And Franklin Russell had responded so eagerly to her, as if he were waiting for her…could he have been a plant? Could he have been a honey trap? B613 and other Dark players had no qualms about using gigolo Operatives to achieve objectives. She had been played that way before, allowed herself to be played by Jake Ballard. Was Russell another one, a new gigolo tailor made to fit her?

Had someone spotted her while she was out and followed her? Was she about to be on TMZ or in some other gossip rag: **The Fixer on the Prowl** or some other inane headline? Was she just being paranoid? It wasn't paranoia if They were really out to get you and recent events proved that yes, They were certainly out to get her…

The wind had been taken out of her sails. Gone was the flirty confidence, 'Alex Jones' had died shortly after she was created. Coming out of the bathroom, she had hastily shut Russell down and hurried home with her figurative tail in between her legs. As soon as she was completely locked in, as soon as she shed her "armor", she had gotten into the shower to weep bitter tears under the near scalding spray. She had scrubbed away the glow, the perfume, and let the water turn frigid. Afterwards, she had put on her robe and opened a bottle of Grey Goose, not even bothering with a glass. She drank, she let more tears fall, and just brooded over where she was now, where she had fallen to.

She was Olivia Pope, not Alex Jones, not Julia Baker, and she was a mess, a goddamned fucking ugly mess. She had been that way for a long time. What she had planned to do tonight, what Suzanne 'Kinky Sue' Thomas' life's end had inspired her to do as a Power Play, would've done her more harm than good long term. Olivia had known that going in but she was desperate. It had seemed like a good idea at the time and it was better than being stagnant, being numb.

She felt adrift, vulnerable, weak, and just so numb. If she wasn't having night terrors or flashbacks, she was utterly numb. The numbness would dissipate when she worked her Cases. She could feel things, feel fire in her again when she worked but that wasn't enough. She just wanted to feel something again and not just terror, rage, and sadness. She wanted to feel in control again. She wanted to feel good again. She wanted to feel like she could trust again.

Most of all, she just wanted to feel safe again.

Olivia would never feel normal again. She had accepted that a long time ago but was feeling safe really so much to ask for? Was it yet another impossible dream?

She hoped not…

Quiet knocking at her door made her tighten the sash of her robe and grab her gun. Having it nearby was comforting, which provided more evidence of just how messed up she was now. Olivia hated guns and violence. She had been vocally against it when dealing with Clients and she remembered having to remind her Gladiators, Huck mainly, that it was wrong. It was still wrong but she couldn't…guns and violence had helped save her in the end. She couldn't just ignore that, no matter how much she wanted to. She longed for that innocence, that willful ignorance to return.

Olivia checked the peephole and after confirming that it was him, unlocked her front door, opening it slowly. Immediately, Fitz's face softened and she had to look away from him, had to walk towards her piano. The front door closed quietly behind him and he locked them in. She appreciated that. She liked being able to control who got into her space, again. Only she and Huck had the keys to her new locks. Huck wouldn't give copies to anyone unless she said it was okay and it wasn't okay. It wouldn't be okay for a long time.

Olivia placed the gun on top of the piano, a piano that she had bought with the intention of resuming her playing but never had, not really. It was just there for decoration mainly, another piece of furniture to dust and potentially defile.

Defile the furniture…the piano…Gettysburger in the oven, Du Bellay on the table… inherited vinyl **Don't You Worry About a Thing** blasting... her dance floor…her jaunty declaration of freedom, that she was choosing Olivia over everyone and everything…Jake leaving to get pillows so they could fuck on the piano…the front door bursting open…the wine spilling over the cushion…hand over her mouth…the thud of her head impacting with Ms. Lois' door…the ding of the elevator…Jake's footsteps running right past her…the pop of silenced bullets sailing into her poor neighbor…the needle…the body bag…she couldn't breathe…she couldn't breathe… _ **she couldn't breathe!**_

Olivia was gently turned around and she couldn't hear him over her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Fitz was saying something, his face filled with compassion but thankfully no pity but she couldn't hear him. Why couldn't she hear him? She couldn't breathe! Why couldn't she breathe? There was heaviness in her chest that she couldn't get a proper breath through, even if she coughed. Was she having a heart attack? Was she drowning? Was she in the pool drowning? Had she fallen asleep in the pool? No, she wasn't in the pool. She was in her apartment. She was on dry land but she was still choking. Could one choke to death on air? Was she about to find out? Why couldn't she breathe?

Her knees gave out and the floor was cold. The hard floor was cold but Fitz was warm in front of her. Fitz was there. Fitz had come to her. She had called him and ask him, begged him to come to her, and he had, even after everything. She had screamed vitriol at him. She had condemned him for his actions without even letting him explain, without really listening to him, and thrown him out. She had thrown her Ring, _**their**_ Ring, at him and thrown him out like he was the scum of the Earth…but he had still come to her. He had taken her call and he was with her, now. She couldn't stop shaking. Why wouldn't it stop? How could she make it stop? Air abruptly filled her lungs and she took it in slowly, deeply, the cold sweat and shaking receding like ocean's waves…

"… _breathe with me, Livvie…slow and deep breaths…that's it_ … _"_

In for 4, out for 4, in through her nose and out through her mouth, support the diaphragm…she could breathe again. It was loud, slow, jagged, deep breathing but it was breathing. Breathing was good. The shaking had stopped and although the cold sticky sweat lingered, she had kept control of her bladder and bowels. She hadn't vomited. That was a marked improvement.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head negatively, looking down at her toes. Her pedicure was a pretty shade of sea foam green, the polish finished with a sparkling base coat. She had gone with a nude manicure, her half bitten nails and picked nail beds expertly repaired and tended to. She was sitting with her back against one of the piano's supporting legs and her knees were drawn up, her hands resting on her lap. Fitz was kneeling in front of her, close enough for her to feel his warmth but not touching her without her permission. She appreciated that, too. Being touched, even by people she knew wouldn't hurt her, was jarring. He still understood her. Despite all of her best efforts to push him away, he was there and he understood. What was he holding? What was in his hand?

Fitz passed her a large bottle of water and she drank all of it in one go, the cool liquid soothing her parched mouth and cutting through some of the vodka haze. She would have to drink some more water and scavenge for something edible to eat before trying to sleep. Sue's case was closed but there would be another Client, another Crisis. The work never ended…

"I'm glad you called me."

"Why? I could've been calling just so I could yell at you some more…"

"If you're yelling at me, you're still here. It's okay."

"No, it's not. It's really not okay and…Fitz, why did you come? Why did you answer the phone? Why do you…how can you still care about me? How can you still love me? I haven't done anything worthy of it lately…"

"You've gone through hell, Livvie. It would unreasonable to expect you not to have changed."

"That's true but really, nothing about my behavior towards you has changed. I blow hot and cold. I run. I blame you for things that aren't your fault and I just don't understand why you haven't given up on me, yet. I've given you plenty of good reasons to do so and really, you deserve far better than a joy phobic, self destructive, self loathing bitch with crippling Daddy issues in your life. Maybe if you get rid of me for good, Mellie will finally give you a divorce and you can be happy. Don't you want that? You should have that. One of us should get to be happy. You should get rid of me, forget all about me and sell the House and…you should move on. Go make a good life with someone better, someone normal."

"I don't want to get rid of you. I don't want to forget about you or move on. I love _**you**_ , Olivia."

"You shouldn't love me. I'm damaged goods. I'm broken, Fitz."

"You are _**not**_ broken, Olivia."

She scoffed and stood up quickly, him following her as always. Why did he do that? Why did anyone do that, follow after her? Couldn't they see that she didn't have all the answers? Couldn't they see that she was all talk? Couldn't they see that she was just a big joke, a series of facades, one more hateful than the other? Following her was like the blind leading the blind. Following her would send them sailing over a cliff and deep into darkness, into death and depravity and so much pain…

"I'm not broken? I'm not broken? What do you call me pushing you away and running away from you, even though you've proven more than a dozen times that you love me and want to be with me openly? What do you call me allowing Jake Ballard to manipulate me emotionally and hurt me physically with impunity? What do you call me still loving my father, still loving Rowan, even though he's an absolute monster who hates my guts?"

"Olivia…"

It was like opening a well shaken soda bottle. The words were coming out fast, their ferocity belied by her soft and tearful tone, stopping his inevitable comforting words in their tracks.

"You say that I'm not broken? What do you call all of this, then? What do you call me having panic attacks? What do you call me having flashbacks and being triggered at random times by random things? What do you call me having a full blown panic attack in a bar's bathroom tonight while trying to pick up a random guy? What do you call me going out to try and pick up a random guy in the first place? What do you call me wetting my bed and waking up vomiting because I have nightmares about red doors and bricked windows, nightmares about gunshots in my ear and blood on my face and having Intel meticulously tortured out of me before I'm given to some monster as a present? What do you me call having nightmares about men using me like I'm dental floss because they paid cold hard cash for me? How is that not broken?"

" _Livvie_ …"

"How can you stand there and tell me with a straight face that I'm not broken when the evidence of it has been right under your nose from the moment we met? You fell deeply in love with a broken person, Fitzgerald. You fell deeply in love with a broken little girl inside of a broken woman's body. I used to be functional but now I'm not. **I am a mess.** I am a horrible mess and if you're not going to use common sense and leave me, then you need to accept the fact that I'm broken, most likely beyond repair. I have. I didn't have a choice _**but**_ to accept it after everything that's happened to me."

She swiped the heel of her hand over her eyes and met his pained gaze full on. If he wasn't going to leave her, then he was going to have to listen to her, really hear her words and accept the new reality. He would have to accept that The Great Olivia Pope was gone, that the Livvie that he had fallen so deeply in love with was gone. Would she ever come back? Did Olivia even want her to come back? She didn't know but if Fitz was going to stay, he deserved to know just who he was signing up for. She needed to give him full disclosure about her condition. He had asked if she was okay on the phone. No, she was not okay. She was antithesis of okay.

"I can't sleep without nightmares. I hardly eat. I drink like a fish. I cry. I swim but nothing helps. I can barely think straight. It's all I can do just to get up in the morning so I can go and do my job. I'm physically free, I'm back home, but mentally I'm trapped still inside that damned warehouse, still inside that small and disgusting brick windowed bathroom. I'm still trapped in their safehouse, watching as I'm bid on like cattle in an auction I put myself in and hearing my captors debate whether they should 'test drive the goods' before they pocket their new fortune. I can do my job well and that's it. Everything else…everything else is too hard. I'm numb. It takes so much for me to feel anything. I don't know what it feels like to be genuinely happy or safe, anymore. Every day, I lose more pieces of myself **and** **it won't stop, Fitzgerald. I just want it to stop. I don't know how to make it stop...** "

The silence after her grim monologue was heavy, loaded, and she plopped down in the chair by her couch. Olivia was sitting in the same chair that she had sat in when they ran out the clock together. She was sitting in the chair and watching him closely. She had unloaded on him again. She had gone into far more detail than she had intended to at the beginning of her rebuttal but she couldn't muster up the energy to regret it. Fitz had asked about her wellbeing so she told him. He had asked for it so it wasn't her fault if he couldn't handle the truth. She wouldn't blame him if he couldn't handle it. She couldn't even handle it so it would unfair to…

Slowly, Fitz crossed to her and sat at her feet, taking both of her hands in one of his.

"I'm here, Livvie. Whatever you need, I'll do it. I want to help you heal. Will you let me?"

"I'll never be the Livvie you fell for again. She's gone and I don't know who she'll be replaced with. Do you still want to help me?"

"Absolutely. Please?"

"…okay. Okay, you can help. I'm not sure how but you can try."

Why not? It wasn't like he could do anymore harm to her and when she allowed him to, Fitz took excellent care of her. Emotionally, mentally, physically, sexually…part of the twisted reasoning that kept her running away from him was that he was so good to her. She felt like she wasn't enough for him. She felt like she wasn't worth it…

"You _**are**_ worth it, Olivia. You're worth everything."

He could her like a comic book and unlike when Rowan did it, she didn't feel attacked or scrutinized. She just felt…she was feeling again, already. There was something other than numb despair in her veins, already and there was stability there, too. Olivia hadn't needed to seduce a random man to feel in control again. She didn't need to execute a Power Play or manipulate the system to feel better. All she had to do was be brave and ask for help, ask the right person for help and comfort.

Sliding out of the chair, she embraced the right person and accepted the kiss to her temple.

"Thank you for calling me."

"… _thank you for answering."_

 _ **/**_

A belligerent voice jolted her awake and Olivia looked around for the source of it. It was coming from right outside of her apartment door. Who was yelling in the vestibule? Where was Fitz? His jacket and tie were still draped over the couch so he couldn't have gone far. Was he outside the door? Yes, he was outside of the door. She could hear his voice and while he wasn't yelling, he definitely sounded annoyed and…wary? Why did he sound wary? Was he in danger? Had his Agents been taken out of commission? Was he about to be attacked again? She couldn't let him be attacked again! She barely survived it last time and if Fitz got hurt now, got killed now, she would go from broken to obliterated.

And furthermore, whoever was yelling at this ungodly hour was going to get an earful from her because last night had been the best sleep she had since before she was Taken, despite her being in a chair instead of her bed. She hadn't even had a nightmare and this stupid yelling fuck was ruining it!

Olivia wrenched the door open and it hit the wall with a loud bang, stopping everything in its tracks. 3 Secret Service Agents (Douglas Reynolds, Nathan Dixon, and Sean O'Leary) were restraining a visibly drunk and disheveled Jake Ballard by the elevator. They had him boxed into the corner by Ms. Lois' empty apartment. Another Secret Service Agent, an unfamiliar female one, had her Glock trained steadily on Jake's chest while she stood in front of Fitz, who was standing sentry 8 steps in front of her door.

"Good morning, everyone. What seems to be the problem here?"

"I came here to make sure that you were okay and these mindless thugs wouldn't let me in. _**He**_ ordered them not to let me in!"

"Fitz, is that true?"

"You said that you didn't want to see him and you mentioned that he had gotten away with putting his hands on you in the past. **I'm not giving him a chance to do it again**."

"Look, Fitz, you don't know the circumstances behind that. There was a…"

"I don't care about the circumstances. I care about Olivia's safety. You're a clear threat to her safety so you need to leave. Go home, sober up, and come back to talk to her when you've calmed down."

"You can't order me around right now. You're not talking to me as my Commander in Chief. You're talking to me as her boyfriend. Or would brother boyfriend be a more accurate label since we're like sister wives, now? I'd say brother husband but you're already one, aren't you? Shouldn't you be at the cemetery watching your wife dance with a headstone?"

" _You lowlife_ _ **son of a bitch**_ …"

"It takes one to know one!"

" **Both of you shut up!** "

Olivia stepped into the eye of the storm and glared at both startled men until they looked away from her like scolded schoolboys. Since that was exactly how they were behaving, it was appropriate. As last night proved, she needed to grow up and acknowledge her personal problems. She needed to be a Gladiator for herself and she had gotten off to a good start when she called Fitz. She had to keep the momentum going…

"I had enough of this pissing match between you two before all hell broke loose. **I'm not putting up with it, now.** Since it's my fault it's happening, I'll shut it down. I'm still choosing Olivia overall but that doesn't mean that I can't choose who I want to be with."

Holding Jake's gaze, she backed up until she was standing tall next to Fitz who promptly took her hand.

"You've got to be _**kidding**_ me…"

"I'm choosing Fitz, Jake. I love him and once I feel stable enough to handle it, I'm going to try my best to be with him like I should've from the start. You and I should've never happened. We should've never started having sex. I'm sorry for using you but before you grab me by the neck again, give me another concussion, or start playing the victim, remember that I'm not the only one that was doing the using between us, Jake. You had and probably still have your own agendas in wanting to be with me. There's no love between us. The only reason we met in the first place is because you were following not one but _**two**_ sets of orders."

"Olivia…"

"I'm breaking up with you for good, Jake. Move on with your life while you still have it. If you stay alive, I'm open to the idea of us being friends in the future but if you can't support or at least respect my choices, if you only care about me when I spread for you, then leave me alone. Agents, please make sure that Captain Ballard leaves here safely and then go get yourselves some breakfast. I'd feed you but all I have to offer is alcohol, popcorn, and half eaten takeout. Bring something healthy back for Fitz and the strongest coffee you can get your hands on."

Having said her piece, Olivia stepped backwards into her apartment and pulled Fitz in with her, closing the door firmly. Through the peephole, she watched as the female agent pushed the call button for the elevator and as Jake was unceremoniously shoved into it by the now glowering quartet. She chuckled at that. Jake calling them mindless thugs had been disrespectful and what he had said to Fitz about the cemetery had been completely out of line. He should count himself lucky that he hadn't been shot or punched.

Knowing Jake as she did, Olivia knew that he'd show up at her front door again or at OPA once he dried out. Whether it would be by choice or because of marching orders from Rowan remained to be seen. Although Rowan said that he'd leave her alone (taking away his protection…), his control freak nature would have him trying to butt in again, especially when word got to him that she and Fitz were on the verge of reconciling. At least she _**hoped**_ they were on the verge of reconciling…

"You said that he gave you a concussion. He's the one who put you in the hospital."

"Yes."

"And he choked you?"

"Yes."

"I'm the one who put him in your life in the first place. He wouldn't have been able to hurt you if I hadn't been such a jealous petty idiot…"

"Rowan had been planning to use him long before you told him to monitor me."

"Still…"

"I don't blame you for what happened. Jake chose to hurt me and I chose to pretend like it never happened. It's not your fault and for what it's worth, I can guarantee that it won't happen again. If he even thinks of trying for Round 3, I'll shoot him in the balls. I'm very good with a gun, now."

"I better watch my ass then. What are your plans for today?"

"I'm between Clients but I'll probably have a new one by the end of the day."

As if on cue, her cell phone erupted in a fury of alerts and Olivia fetched it from her bedroom, her brows nearly disappearing into her hairline as she read headlines. Wanting confirmation, Olivia quickly turned on the morning news just in time to see footage of Michael Ambruso in a very raunchy position with a man that was decidedly not Cyrus Beene. Michael was supposed to be an engaged man and yet, there he was, plain as day cheating on Cyrus with absolutely no shame. While the Media was currently spinning it as a young man getting a little too turnt on his last night of freedom, the truth was far messier, far more convoluted and knowing D.C. wouldn't stay hidden forever. The engagement had been a band aid over a bullet hole. Now, it was time to rip the band aid off and really clean up the mess before it got completely out of hand…

"It's a lovely week for a milestone LGBT White House wedding, wouldn't you say so?"

"Yeah."

"This should be fun…and by fun, I mean absolutely horrifying."

His laughter was warm.

The smile on her face at the sound of it was warmer.

It was real.

 _ **/**_

"… _don't think of it as a Ring. Don't think of as…you don't have to love me. You don't have to come back to me but if you could wear this, if I could know that you were wearing this…then even if you hate me, I'll know you'll be okay. I'll know you're out there."_

"… _Doux Bebe, that's its name?"_

" _You can call it whatever you want. In English, Doux Bebe means Sweet Baby so…"_

" _You want me to call a ring Sweet Baby?"_

" _I just want you to be happy."_

"… _I could_ _ **never**_ _hate you…"_

* * *

All blackmail, homophobia, and loaded shotguns aside, it had been a beautiful wedding.

Cyrus and Michael may not be the stuff of fairy tales or even a Brothers Grimm tale but they had reached a good understanding. They would be all right or at least if they weren't, they would hold for a while. That was enough for Olivia. She had done her job. The Crisis had been Handled. Her Client was safe. She had cleaned the latest of many White House messes and now…

"You put it back on."

The previous night's sleep had been interrupted but not from nightmares. The memory of Fitz presenting her with her Ring, their Ring, had played out behind her eyes and when they opened, she had become a woman on a mission. She still wasn't okay. It would be a long time before she could say that she was okay but she was ready to move forward. Calling Fitz, confiding in Fitz, ending it with Jake had been wonderful first steps but they weren't enough. She still had a lot of work to do, lots of demons to fight and dragons to slay.

She didn't want her index finger to be bare while she did it.

Taking Doux Bebe off had been a move of utter desperation. She knew that she wouldn't be able to escape her captors or call for help so she had to leave a sign that she was alive but in deep trouble. As for why she had left it off, it had become a potent reminder of what she went through and just how out of control she felt. Throwing it at Fitz had been a way to get him to leave and a way to lash out. She had wanted him to hurt like she had been hurting…

"It was time to put it back on."

After her frantic search bore fruit, Olivia had knelt in her dark apartment and stared at it while it rested in the palm of her hand. Doux Bebe was solid gold, modeled after the infinity symbol with embedded white diamonds. The band was created from skilled hands and it was a labor of love, a symbol of enduring infinite love. Fitz's great grandmother Annette had given it to him on her deathbed but only after he promised that he would give it to someone he truly loved. He had given it to her, not Mellie, not anyone else because Olivia was the one that he truly loved, flaws and all.

And even after everything that had happened between them, all of the pain they had gone through, Olivia truly loved him back. She always had and always would. Sometimes, a lot of times, she wasn't very good at showing it but she would work on it. She would do better, be better for Fitz and more importantly, for herself. She owed it to herself to get better, to be better.

The Great Olivia Pope was gone forever but Olivia Pope was still alive. She was still Olivia and she still had plenty of fire left in her. She was broken but not beyond repair, not beyond hope as she claimed. There was hope. She had hope.

At the bottom of Pandora's Box, there had been hope and it was just a matter of getting through all the bad, letting all of the horrors escape, to get to it.

She could do it.

She _**would**_ do it and one day, she would feel safe again.

She looked forward to that day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I started writing and publishing my fanfiction because I didn't like how my favorite characters were being treated by their Creators. Whether it was the relatively minor frustration of looking at two characters and screaming 'FOR GOD'S SAKE, KISS AND MAKE BABIES BEFORE JUDGEMENT DAY COMES!' or the lasting hurt of major character ruination and/or killing/writing off in various horrible ways, I wanted to write my own stories for them where they could all be nurtured and happy.**

 **Where** _ **SCANDAL**_ **has taken Olivia Pope's character, both as an individual and as a romantic leading lady has disgusted me to the core. She is a mere shadow of the Olivia that I came to adore and there is very little hope for her canon recovery at this point. Hopefully, I'm wrong about that because she truly deserves better than what she's been given. I rightfully place the blame solely on Shonda Rhimes' shoulders and since her Hubris has yet to be fully addressed and dealt with by ABC (her day of Titan Toppling is coming, though. 5candal in particular is gonna haunt her for the rest of her career, mark my words!), it's up to fic writers. It's up to us who still genuinely adore Olivia and want her to get better and have joy.**

 **Liv has needed psychological help since the Pilot and 'Thwack' (5x17) was the straw that broke this Gladiator in a Hoodie's camel's back, pardon the rhyme. I need to see how Season 5 ends before I can feel comfortable enough to write a solo Fix-it Fic for it (** _ **II Corinthians**_ **is a joint project) but I can operate within Season 1-4's established (and disregarded) canon nicely.**

 **I don't know how long this fic is going to be. I never do with my WIPs.** _ **The Road Not Taken**_ **was supposed to be 15 chapters and it became 35.** _ **Loose**_ **was supposed to be a quick college one shot and it became 25 chapters.** _ **The Thunderbolt**_ **is likely going to end up in the 40s someplace and** _ **Shattering Expectations**_ **? Who knows? It'll probably last as long as the show does and a little bit after. It depends on how Season 6, the alleged last season, plays out.**

 **What I** _ **do**_ **know that in this fic and in all of my SCANDAL fics, chaptered or otherwise, at the end of day, Olivia Pope will be okay, pardon the second rhyme. In my hands, I promise that she'll be happy solo and she will be happy in a relationship with a** _ **good**_ **man or at least on the road to recovery and some form of redemption. That's all I really want for her, now.**

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

 **Diagnosis of and Treatment for all my mental ailments/disorders:**

 **Mental Ailments/Disorders:**

 **PTSD**

 **Fears of losing control, failure, and happiness (last one tied into control/failure)**

 **Self destructive/loathing**

 **Misplaced guilt**

 **Martyrdom for past misdeeds/hurts inflicted on others**

 **Best options for treatment: Cognitive Behavior Therapy, group therapy, and medications (anti anxiety and antidepressant).**

 **While undergoing Treatment, I should...**

 **Work but have balance. Downtime shouldn't be rare.**

 **Continue: visiting the shooting range, reaching out to Fitz Grant III via phone calls/visits**

 **Add: self defense training (Boxing? MMA? Karate?), new calming hobby (Yoga? Painting?)**

 **Establish/Reestablish Healthy Connections with: Fitz Grant III, Abby Whelan, Stephen Finch, Quinn Perkins, Huck**

 **Minimize Contact /Cut Off: Jake Ballard, Rowan Pope, Maya Pope, Cyrus Beene, Mellie Grant, anyone affiliated with B613 (Franklin Russell from the Wine Bar? Investigate…)**

 **Get at least 4 hours of sleep nightly (with or without nightmares), reduce alcohol intake by 50% (excessive drinking and medications don't mix!), establish a consistent meal plan to follow, continue swimming/running/pilates regimen, REGULARLY COOK MEALS (related project: learn how to make jam!),**

 **PTSD Triggers and Why:**

 **Small dark spaces (the body bag, the Cell…)**

 **Negative emotionally charged situations (high stress can lead to an episode…)**

 **The color RED (the "bunker" doors/blood)**

 **Stevie Wonder's** _ **Don't You Worry About A Thing**_ **(was playing when the abduction occurred)**

 **The sight and splatter of blood (watching Ms. Lois be shot, shooting "bunker" guard Otto in the head during the "escape", Ian MacCullough's blood splattering on my face during the Auction),**

 **The nickname "Princess" ("do you want to go for a drive, Princess?")…**

* * *

" _My name is Liv. I'm 35 years old. I was officially diagnosed with PTSD during my first cognitive behavior therapy session 2 days ago and…I'm here tonight and will continue coming here because I need help. 3 months, 17 days, and 11 hours ago, I was Taken from my apartment. I was gone for 20 days, 16 hours, 42 minutes, and 36 seconds. I was monitored in a dark and dingy cell. I was given very little food and tepid water. The bathroom was disgusting and the only place I felt safe because my captors would leave me alone in there for 5 minutes at a time. I was threatened with gang rape, with death, with being auctioned off, and I was psychologically tortured until I could escape. With the help of my family and the love of my life, by the Grace of whatever God there is out there, I managed to escape. The people who Took me will never hurt anyone else again. I managed to survive, to escape physically but mentally, I'm still in that horrible place. I'm still scared and raw and I…I can't function like I used to. I used to be able to ignore the pain inside of me. I used to be able to avoid it but I can't anymore. I just…I'm here because I want to get better. I can't do it on my own. I tried. I decided to seek help because I don't want to be functionally broken anymore. I've been functionally broken since I was 12. I want to start healing or at least try to. I know that there isn't a cure for PTSD and I know that my other emotional issues will always be with me but I would like to able to learn how to cope with them in healthy ways. I would like to learn how to feel safe again. I want…I want to be happy. I want to have genuine joy and peace. Until I learn how to conquer my demons, that can't happen and I want it to happen_ _ **so**_ _badly. I have family who love me and count on me. There is a man who loves me unconditionally and I just…I want to start healing, not just for the sake of myself but also so I can show them the same sort of loyalty and devotion that they've shown me. I can't go back to being the old Liv. I don't want to._ _ **I want to be a better Liv.**_ _"_

* * *

"So, what are you taking?"

"Zoloft and Xanax. The Zoloft is once a day and the Xanax is to be taken as needed."

"Does it…are you getting better? Are the meds helping?"

"It's only been 3 weeks since I've started taking them but I'm sleeping better. I still have nightmares and terrors but it's only one a night. Before, I'd wake up, calm down and then have another one. My mouth gets really dry sometimes and I'm always hungry, which is fine. It gives me more reason to cook again. I'm doing better, Huck. I'm not good but I'm better than I was."

"I'm glad to hear that. I've been really worried about you. All of us have but we didn't know how to help or if you'd let us. Stephen said that…"

"Stephen?"

"He and Abby kept in contact after they got you home. They Skype 3 times a week now, regardless of time differences and work hours. I think they're gonna start having sex again the next time they see each other in person. Now that he's grown up, Stephen would be the best partner for her. David Rosen goes between being a sniveling rat or a poisonous snake in a White Hat. Leo Bergen's an immature prick, an occasionally decent one but still, a prick. She was happiest when she was with Stephen."

"Yeah, she was. How are…have you been able to talk to Kim about what Rowan did to you? See your son?"

"Only a little. She thinks I'm too dangerous to be around him. She's right. Javi deserves better than me."

"Maybe if you started getting help, too. If she could see that you're trying to do better…"

"It won't work. She's done with me and I'm too broken to help, Olivia. I'm a lost cause."

"I said that about myself. I was wrong."

"But, that's different. _**You're**_ different."

"Look, you don't have to but if you ever want to, I'll get you a consultation with Dr. Beck. She's good. There's also a Group for veterans that meet on Thursdays at the Rec Center where I go on Fridays…"

"I'll think about it. I can't promise anything right now but I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. Come on. I need to talk to Quinn and you need to be there."

"Why?"

 _ **/**_

"You want to make me a partner? You want to give me half of OPA? _ **Me?**_ "

"Yes, you. Quinn, you kept this Firm open after I abandoned it and left DC. You kept the bills paid and Handled things while still looking for me. You looked for Harrison when he didn't come back. You identified his body and Salif's, made sure that he didn't end up in Potter's Field or in a landfill somewhere. You watched out for Huck. You helped him get the job at the phone store and I know you sent Abby's resume to the White House. You took care of everyone. You protected our family as best as you could. You did everything that I should've done but was too selfish to do so you deserve to be a partner. You've more than earned it."

" _Liv, I…wow…I don't know what to say_ …"

"Will you do it?"

" _Yeah…yeah, I'll do it._ "

"Good. Along with half ownership, you'll get a 15% pay raise, another week of vacation time and you're Second in Command."

" _L-like Harrison was?_ "

"Mm-hm. You can bring in Clients, interview and hire new people, and take point on Cases when I'm unavailable. Here's the paperwork. Look it over with Huck and call me if you have any questions."

Before Olivia could leave the conference room, she had an abrupt armful of Quinn and it was a testament to how far she had come that she didn't stiffen or feel a surge of panic at the full body contact. Olivia returned her hug and was warmed by the pleased look on Huck's face. Part of her treatment plan was to learn how to delegate, how to cede control when necessary. The best place to start was with OPA.

Her work was a core part of her identity, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but over the years, it had become a crutch, an avenue of escape. She couldn't or wouldn't Fix herself but she could Fix other people. She couldn't Handle her emotions but she could Handle a Client's, Spin their various woes into something palatable. She couldn't save herself but she could save other people.

When she was The Fixer, The Great and Formidable Olivia Pope, she didn't have to think about all the pain she had inside, the pain she had given to others, especially those who had the audacity to truly care for her. So, she had decided to shake things up.

Huck was happy where he was in the hierarchy but Quinn had been radiating discomfort and a rightful resentment of the order of things. Quinn had been brought into OPA as a Client, as someone to coddle and protect. Time and circumstances had molded her into a formidable woman, a good Gladiator (and B613 affiliate). There would be no OPA without Quinn stepping up while Olivia had decided to try and check out, decided to be Julia Baker.

Making Quinn a full partner, giving her more autonomy, fully acknowledging and appreciating the young woman's loyalty was the right thing to do. The move was best for Quinn, best for OPA, and a very critical step forward in Olivia's overall recovery. Olivia had to be more than the sum of her parts. She had to be more than The Fixer if she was going to heal properly.

With a quiet sniffle, Quinn ended the hug but held her hands, looking every bit of wide eyed, innocent Lindsay Dwyer. She was smiling broadly and she was shaking with excitement.

"I won't let you down, Liv. _**I promise.**_ "

"I know."

 _ **/**_

Knocking at her apartment door made her set down her carton of frozen yogurt before grabbing her gun. Olivia still felt the need to have her Colt .45 within reach but it wasn't as pressing.

She was getting better. Slowly but surely, she was getting better.

Who was at the door? She wasn't expecting any company. Quinn and Huck were sitting in his Domain when she left for the day, absorbed in watching what looked to be a local soccer game. Abby was burning the long past midnight oil with Cyrus at 1600 Penn, sadly eliminating Fitz as a possibility, too. If he was going to come to her apartment, he usually did it in the 8-10PM range. It was a little before Midnight and the teaser for what looked to be a **Mythbusters** marathon was on her muted television screen.

The knocking came again, this time more insistent, rattling the door slightly.

" _Olivia? Liv, I know you're home_ …"

Opening the peephole, she took in the sight of Jake Ballard. He was holding a Gettysburger bag and a bottle of wine. He had shaved his face and looked to be wearing a dress shirt instead of the t-shirts he had worn before, topped by a blazer instead of leather jacket.

She hadn't seen him since the morning confrontation between him, Fitz, and the Secret Service Agents. No phone calls, no "accidents" in a donut shop line, not even a text message!

The saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' was not applying and Olivia felt grateful for that. She had been confused for far too long in her personal life. She had clarity again and that new clarity left no room for the man in the vestibule. If he had been mature, then maybe she could've carved a small space for him but he had been sulking. He saw her as a prize, "The Girl" to get at the end of the story's journey. Her rejecting him in favor of Fitz, in favor of the man he _**knew**_ that she loved, had blown that pipe dream out of the water. Instead of being a man about it and accepting reality with grace, he spent weeks pouting and pretending that she didn't exist.

What was really irking her was that if she had texted him, called him saying that she was horny, that she _**needed**_ him, then his Houdini would've ended immediately. No questions asked, no concern showed, Jake would've been willing to get his ashes hauled. Before, she went along with it, encouraged him to use her body at will so she could feel better about using him in general. He had been another avenue of escape, a most toxic one. Before, she felt like their "relationship" was what she deserved. Before, she had been willing to hide with him, to run away and settle for him so she wouldn't have to properly deal with the feelings that Fitz evoked in her.

Now, things were different.

"Why are you here, Jake?"

"I brought you dinner and some more wine for you. It's not Du Bellay but it's good. Top reviews on Google."

"I've already eaten dinner and my doctors recommend that I cut back on booze. Why are you here, Jake? What do you want?"

"I came to see you, hang out with my friend. We're still friends, aren't we?"

"I'm not too sure about that, Jake. I haven't heard from you in weeks. I thought you left town."

"I needed some time to think. Look, can you just open the door?"

"No, I won't."

"Why?"

"Because you're not here to be a friend. You're here for a quick fuck."

"No, I'm not!"

"You could've fooled me. Let's see… it's pushing Midnight, you shaved, you're wearing nice clothes, you've got cologne on, and you brought the exact same food combination that typically led to us having sex. I haven't seen or heard from you in weeks, ever since I made it clear that Fitz is my endgame. If we were really friends, if you really cared about me, then you would've stayed in touch, even just through a text. The fact that you didn't is proof that you only care about me when I'm saving your ass from Rowan or spreading my legs for you. I don't need or deserve that kind of treatment from you or anyone else. Go home."

"Hey, communication goes both ways! You could've reached out to me but you didn't!"

"I didn't and I'm better off without you around. You're not good for me. You're as bad as Rowan for me. Actually, you're worse since I've never had sex with Rowan and he's never pushed or choked me like you have."

"Olivia…"

"When I'm ready to be intimate with a man again, I don't want to do it with someone who doesn't care about me and who I don't completely trust. You don't give a damn about me for me and I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. I never have. I used to ignore all of my doubts about you to force whatever the hell we called ourselves doing to work but things are different, now. I'm different now and I do not have the time or the energy to play games with you anymore. I deserve better than you. I _**am**_ better than you. Take your Gettysburger, your wine, and go home. Good night, Jake."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank God for fanfic. That's all I can say right now. The post Season 5 Hiatus is going to be much longer than usual (some are saying February 2017 for the show's return, others October-December of this year…) and I am so grateful for the respite. Plus, with all the extra time, some long overdue revisions to scripts, cast, and hopefully the fucking** _ **showrunner**_ **could be made.**

 **Scandal 6 is supposed to be the Curtain Call so I say that they should clean up their mess as best they can and go out on a high note or recover enough to get a small Season 7. It likely won't happen but a girl can dream, can't she?**

 **It's painfully obvious that canon Liv's not going to get any sort of mental tending yet so I'll do it in here and properly. For the time being, this story is going to stay in Liv's POV but perhaps I'll go into Fitz's head a few times or do a companion fic exploring his own healing journey as he supports his Livvie. I don't know yet. The possibilities are endless for stories from me. I will keep our Olitz alive and happy one fic at a time.**

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

" _Esau finally crawled out of his Hole on Saturday and I stood by my decision to end it with him. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It_ _ **did**_ _hurt a little but it was a good hurt, an overdue hurt. He came over looking for a booty call like we used to do and I just…it was like turning the lights on and seeing all the roaches scatter. He literally made feel sick to my stomach with all his excuses, all his pretty little manipulative words. I didn't even open the door for him and I told him off when he wouldn't fuck off faster. Esau says that that we're still friends but that's not true. There's no friendship between me and Esau. We used each other as a way to run away and hide from all of our problems. He saw me as an ego boost, as someone that he can play with, manipulate into doing whatever he wants. For a long time, I_ _ **was**_ _that girl. I was his puppet, his babysitter. I was his toy. I was the trophy that he could show off. I was…I convinced myself that there was something between us that wasn't there. There was never love. I only have love for one man and it's not Esau. It won't ever be him but when I was with him, I thought there was enough fondness, enough lust for him to cover over the past hurts, to ignore my doubts, and make it work. I thought that I could settle for him, that I_ _ **deserved**_ _to settle for him and the toxic way he treated me but I don't. I deserve better. I should be with someone who's honest with me. I should be with someone who would never even think of raising a hand to me. I should be with someone who wants me for me. I should be with someone who sees me. I should be with someone who loves me. I already have someone like that. He's been in my life for years and when I talk about him here, I'll call him Boaz. He's been so good to me and so patient which is damned lucky because I haven't been very good to him. I've hurt him_ _ **so**_ _many times but he's never given up on me, even when I gave up on myself. He's my best friend and I love him. He's a brilliant and honorable man, a protector. He's kind, gentle, and…well, I've always thought that Boaz had to be quite the silver fox to keep Ruth's attention, y'know? My Boaz is the type who gets better with age. He's like really good scotch or wine…"_

* * *

 **BOXING REGIMEN FOR BEGINNERS (A/N #2: All info taken via Quora)**

 **Pre-Workout:**

 **Stretch for 10-15 minutes (whole body to prevent muscle cramps/injuries)**

 **Light warm up jog (gets the blood flowing and also helps to protect muscles)**

 **The Workout:**

 **(1 minute rest for every round; 1 round is 2 minutes)**

 **Heavy Bag Sprints- 3 Rounds (continuous punching at top speed)**

 **Shadow Sparring- 3 Rounds (refine movement, punch technique, and defense)**

 **Heavy Bag Power Shots- 3 Rounds (hook, cross, and uppercut; punches: singles for 1, doubles for 2, and then all out for last round)**

 **Punch Mitts- 3 Rounds (combinations and defense with coach)**

 **Double End Bag- 3 Rounds (singles, doubles, and combinations; footwork and defense to evade the bag)**

 **Speed Ball- 3 Rounds (continue to hit the ball without stopping)**

 **Midsection Exercises for 10-15 minutes (floor workouts for abdominal toning)**

 **5 minutes of nonstop skipping (jump rope) to warm down muscles, burn fat, and tone muscles**

* * *

It had taken longer than she had expected for word to begin spreading about her recent activities.

At first, Olivia had thought that it was B613 tailing her, possibly Jake or Franklin Russell (her hunch of his true occupation had been confirmed…) but as time passed with no contact from Rowan, she realized that it was the Press. Freelance Press, nobody major (yet) and she heard the faint sound of camera shutters when she went into the Clinic for a Wednesday session with Dr. Beck. She had also spotted a lighting quick flash from a camera outside of the Rec Center after her latest Group meeting.

The story would break any day now: ' **Has The Pope Pistol Gone Postal?** ' or some other snappy headline, accompanied by everyone from BNN Talking Heads to gossip bottom feeders weighing in.

Initially, she had thought about confronting them all head on, shutting the story down before it could get out but she decided not to. Although The Great Olivia Pope was gone inside of her, her Reputation, her Name still meant something around D.C. She was _**The Fixer**_ and that would always make her a person of interest, especially with her ties to the Grant Administration. Add in the rumored ties she had to Fitzgerald Grant III himself, it was simply good business practice to have someone on her day to day movements, even if she was staying low key and boring.

She wasn't ashamed of anything she was doing. To shut it down would imply otherwise.

 **There was nothing wrong with needing mental tending.** Just like a person needed to set a broken bone or to take insulin, making sure that one's mind was sound was critical to being well. The stigma attached to mental illness, particularly in the black community, especially among women stuck deep in Olivia's craw. That stigma, that feeling of shame and failure had also made her hesitant to seek help in the past. She was supposed to be a strong and capable black woman, wasn't she? Strong and capable black women handled their shit on their own. Well, she had already tried to follow that Rule and had failed miserably. She tried to ignore the pain inside of her, tried to dismiss it, and when that didn't work, she self medicated.

She tried to be a " **strong black woman who don't need no man/help**!" and had made herself worse. She had also hurt others with her callousness, her bad decisions, her hubris…

Let the Press find out. Let the whole fucking world find out about her getting treatment.

She was in therapy. She was taking an antidepressant and anti anxiety medication. She was seeking the mental help she needed and fulfilling that need had made her stronger than ever. She wasn't whole and healed but she was stronger. She was _ **better**_.

She had hope again and they'd have to pry it from her cold dead hands if they wanted to take it!

Anyone who had something negative to say could kiss her strong and capable black ass!

As if the universe had heard her throw down the gauntlet, Rowan entered the room. Olivia continued her warm down, keeping her jump rope rhythm steady. It would be a while before she was done and Rowan could wait or leave. She'd prefer the latter but she knew he wasn't going anywhere until he got to say his piece, whatever it was this time.

Rowan stood out like a sore thumb in the facility with his three piece black suit, a dark gray coat, and a black fedora with a white band. He looked like a mobster or a pimp. Both labels fell under his mandate as B613's Command. La Costra Nostra could learn a thing or two from his playbook and as Jake Ballard and Franklin Russell proved, he had no qualms about putting his minions' bodies in motion for profit.

Her father in name only sat down on the bench next to her magenta duffel bag and Olivia could feel his evaluating gaze on her. He was deciding what method to use to manipulate her. He could either be harsh, verbally battering her or he would go with the gentle, concerned parent approach with his words. Words were his weapon of choice and he could wield them with a sniper's precision. He could take someone out or maneuver them into self destructing, into giving him exactly what he wanted.

What exactly did he want from her, now?

Did he want her to start fucking Jake again? That wasn't going to happen. She was done with Jake Ballard. He was untrustworthy and unworthy of her. Did he want her to give him the Files back? That wasn't happening. The Files were hers now. Her mission to dismantle B613 was still on but she was keeping it on ice currently. Her last moves in the Game had backfired spectacularly. Olivia had no intention of making the same mistakes as before. She had gotten cocky, gotten smug, and things had gone terribly wrong.

Was he here to try and convince her that she didn't need treatment, that she was strong enough to handle things on her own? If he even implied that, it would take every bit of control she had not to break his jaw. Rowan wasn't stupid. He had working eyes. He knew that she needed help, had needed it for years but he had been content to let her suffer, to let her self destruct over and over again. He probably enjoyed it. After all, he had locked Maya Pope away for 20 years for daring to cross him, for daring to fall short of his expectations. Granted, she had been playing him for an Op from the start but still, it took a complete sadist to condemn someone like that. It also took a complete sadist to con a man into marrying and raising a baby with her for 12 years for the sake of Intel arms dealing. Eli/Rowan and Maya Pope were utter psychopaths.

No wonder she needed mental help. Look at the primordial gene pool she had slithered out of!

Olivia stopped her skipping with a small flourish and draped her white with black handles jump rope over her right shoulder. The same color scheme was used in her attire. Her shorts were black and her boxer's boots were black with white trim. The piece de resistance was her racer back tank top. It read in big bold white letters **A WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOUSE, THE SENATE, AND THE OVAL OFFICE.** She had laughed when she first spotted it in the sports apparel store and grabbed it, along with a large baseball shirt with #44 on the front, also in black and white. Since it was in the 'politics' section, Olivia knew that the #44 represented _**her**_ 44 so she grabbed it with a smile on her face.

She was looking to forward to Fitz eventually seeing it…and taking it off.

Damn, she missed him. Her mind knew that she wasn't anywhere near ready to get back to that level with him but it didn't stop her body from reminding her that it had been a long time since she had felt Fitz's touch and it was _**not**_ happy with her about it...

Quickly getting off of that train of thought, Olivia placed the jump rope and her gloves into her duffel bag. Her red hair tie was removed and opening the small lunch bag inside the duffel, she pulled out a large bottle of chocolate milk. Chocolate milk was one of her favorite drinks and it was a wonderful post workout drink, full of good things for muscle recovery.

"What do you want, Rowan?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Don't you still have your Sons feeding you Intel or did you finally kill both of them?"

"…you're finally getting your fire back. It's nice to see."

"Says one of the main people who caused it to go out… look, you and I both know that you're not here out of the goodness of your heart or love. Just tell me what you want."

"That's an interesting message on your top, Olivia. Some people would call it controversial."

"Only small minded people…look, if you're here looking for information about Mellie's campaign or whatever other politically based nonsense that's gotten your attention, you're out of luck. I've accepted that I'm a better Fixer than Political Kingmaker so I've decided to play to my strengths. I am retired."

"That's a wise decision."

"I've got a streak of wise decisions going on that I want to keep up."

 _ **/**_

" _I want beef stew."_

" _Well, that wasn't one of today's specials."_

" _ **Beef stew**_ _… and then, I would like an orange creamsicle for dessert. Orange, that's important…I know that they have others, blue-raspberry, lime but I grew up on the orange ones. This is the meal that I would like,_ _ **and then I would like to be shot in the head**_ _!"_

" _You want to be shot in the head?"_

" _ **Yes**_ _."_

" _Why would you be shot in the head?"_

" _ **Because I'm going to die and I want to decide how**_ _…"_

Taking a deep breath, Olivia let the scent of the caramelized onions pull her back to the present. She wasn't in the "bunker". She wasn't watching the fallout from Fitz's decision to save her over the Common Good. She was home safe and sound in her apartment. She was clean and fresh from her post workout shower. She was in Week 3 of her boxing regimen and her body had already become accustomed to it. She was still sore but it wasn't enough to slow her down. She was toning up nicely and while she was still soft where it mattered, there was a power in her body, in her body language that she welcomed.

She was cooking beef stew for dinner and there would be enough for her to share for lunch with Quinn and Marcus Walker, who had been hired by her after the Brandon Parker protests. Huck was a vegetarian so she would bring him some tabbouleh, hummus, and pita bread.

She was making beef stew for dinner. She had asked for it during her Captivity and hadn't gotten it. She was making it from scratch. She wasn't going to end up eating the kind from the can, the kind she used to love as a kid, despite it looking suspiciously like dog food. She wasn't in the "bunker" with Ian and his minions. She was in her apartment. She was home safe. There was no one there monitoring her or threatening her with rape, torture or death…

She took a longer, deeper breath, opened her eyes, and turned the eye off, using the remaining heat to finish off the onions.

Part of her research had indicated that the sense of smell was the least likely to be affected by feelings of irrationality within one's self. The stronger the scent was, the better the anchor would be, unless of course, the strong scent was a Trigger.

Onions didn't trigger her. Caramelizing onions correctly required focus and precision, which would ground her further, plus they would make a lovely addition to the beef stew she was making from scratch. She had a previously unused Dutch oven that was white and had multicolored butterflies on the lid. The deep pot was full of tender meat, aromatics, stock, and chunky vegetables, simmering on low heat. Her stomach growled in anticipation of the meal and Olivia added the onions before cutting the heat on the stew, stirring it from the bottom to get everything balanced.

Cooking was something that she had always enjoyed. Rowan and Maya had both taken the time to teach her the basics before everything went to shit. She had taken culinary classes at her various boarding schools and she had honestly missed doing the task. It just seemed so sad and unnecessary to cook for one. Plus, the pace of college and then the demands of her vocation had kept her to an On the Go diet. Said diet had consisted of takeout, quick meals, water, and her trademarked pairing of wine and popcorn. Nowadays, it was chocolate milk and popcorn.

Part of what helped her avoid facing her pain was drinking. As time went by, her alcohol intake had been spiraling out of control like she had been. When she started her treatment, Olivia had decided that it was best to cut back. She still enjoyed her red wine but she no longer was able to get through 2 bottles in less than a week by drinking it. Most of it was used for cooking, now. The reduced intake helped her sleep better and her skin was clearer, having a healthier glow than before. Eating regular balanced meals had helped with her energy and for the first time since before puberty, she was her correct weight.

She was thinking clearer than ever, which was a relief. One of her biggest worries about taking the Zoloft and Xanax was that she'd trade one mental fog for another.

The fog was still there but it wasn't making her numb, making her reckless, or stupid, anymore.

The decision to get help had been like lighting a lantern, finally giving her a fighting chance to make it through to the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all. Sorry for going off the grid. My little sister Sara had to be readmitted to the hospital for a week (she's back home now but we have to adjust her treatments since her tumor decided to change the game) and honestly, I've just been suffering from a blend of procrastination and writer's block. I was trying to come up with something for** _ **The Thunderbolt**_ **and came up with diddly. I know what I want to do but getting it from my mind and to the document was not happening. I'll have to try again later.**

 **I'll be focusing on this fic and** _ **Shattering**_ **for the majority of the Hiatus, mainly this one. And before you ask,** _ **II Corinthians**_ **has not, I repeat, has** _ **NOT**_ **been abandoned. I have to touch base with HandsUp/Storms but we're a bit over 9K into Chapter 5 already and about halfway done with it. Okay, more like a fourth of the way through it. Like I said, I've got to touch base with her. I also have a couple of ideas for (we're long overdue for a return to my first AU with The Trail and Grant Family 2.0, don'tcha think?) so hang in there. This long hiatus won't get me down and I'll keep the Olitz fires burning one fic, one chapter at a time. Enjoy the latest and thanks for your patience!**

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

" _I defend everyone but myself. Any slight towards a friend, towards a Client, and I'm ready to fight, ready to read for absolute filth but when it comes to me, sometimes I just…I just roll over and take it. I didn't used to be like that but I think I can trace why back to when my Progenitor really got back into my adult life. He just…there's a reason that I don't call him my father, anymore or my Dad. There are so many reasons that I don't. He's just…I don't hate_ _ **him**_ _, per se. I hate the things he does. I hate the things that he allows to happen. I hate how he sees people as assets or sacrificial pawns. He's a sad, hateful little man and I allowed myself to be taken in by him when I was very vulnerable, very confused. I fell into the '_ _ **daddy will always fix it**_ _' mindset because I was scared, forgetting about his true nature until it was far too late to stop him from wreaking havoc and messing things up for my true loved ones and myself. And it's not just him bullying me, either. Other people tear me down all of the time. They make me feel small and dirty, like I deserve to be treated badly because I've done bad things but…that's not true. Just because I've done bad things doesn't mean that I should let guilt and obligation make me into a whipping girl, a doormat. There's a big difference between rightfully facing the consequences of my completely shitty actions and doing penance for them and being mistreated. I have been mistreated for years and it's unacceptable. Now, that I've realized all of that, I need to start taking the power they've got over me away from them for good. I need to fight for myself like I fight for others. I need…I need to be a Gladiator for me. I have to relearn how to be a Gladiator for myself and that's going to be a battle…"_

* * *

 **Signs of Toxic People and How to Deal with Them (taken from The Art of Charm website):**

 **Who are Toxic People?: Toxic People are individuals who try to control you, disregard your boundaries, take without giving, are always "right", aren't honest, love to be victims, and don't take responsibility.**

 **How to Remove Them:**

 **ACCEPT that it may be a process**

 **DON'T feel like you owe them a huge explanation**

 **TALK to them in a Public Place**

 **BLOCK them on Social Media/Phone/Email**

 **DON'T argue- just restate your boundaries and stand firm**

 **CONSIDER writing a letter**

 **CONSIDER distance instead of separation**

 **If a family member is Toxic, special allowances** _ **can**_ **be made but remember: being a relative DOES NOT give a person a license to screw up your life. Engage with them only when necessary and DO NOT give them an opening to inflict more harm. At the end of the day, your good mental and emotional health outweigh familial loyalty and obligation. Consider the dynamics and come up with a practical solution for all parties.**

* * *

"I owe you? What exactly do I owe you, Mellie? _**How**_ exactly do I owe you? Enlighten me."

"You stole my…"

" **You gave him away** and your marriage was dead _**long**_ before I came around. That's the main reason Cyrus brought me onto the Campaign to begin with, remember? I don't owe you a thing, Mellie and you know it. If anything, _**you**_ owe _**me**_. Without my sacrifices, without my blood, sweat, and tears, you wouldn't have become First Lady and were it not for all of my lovely Issues, you wouldn't be Mrs. Grant, right now, _**I**_ would be. I would be First Lady of the United States Olivia Pope-Grant and you would be yesterday's news so where's my thank you, Mellie? At the very least, you owe me a sincere thank you."

"Olivia…"

"You owe me everything you have and are right now, Mellie. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face with pretty words and no solid ground to stand on politically, despite your being First Lady."

"Being First Lady is nothing but a glorified housewife, ornamental, not functional! A woman can't really do anything useful or worthwhile…"

"Being FLOTUS is what you make of it and there have been plenty of women doing useful, worthwhile things within the position and for decades afterwards. I guarantee that you won't be one of them. You are no Jackie O. You are no Eleanor. You are no Betty or Nancy. You _**wish**_ you could be Hillary. All of them worked for what they got and achieved their dreams. They _**did**_ have their husbands' names and capital but at the end of the day, they stood on their own two feet when it counted most. You have done nothing but leech, whine, manipulate and be propped up by others for your entire life. The sweet spot you're in right now, the political and social capital you have access to for your Campaign comes mainly from _**me**_ : your husband in name only's uppity little whore, as you love to call me whenever you can. Although, we both know that I'm not only whore in the picture. I've never been the only one. By the way, thanks to your little boyfriend's warmongering, high treason shenanigans, I'm heavily medicated and in therapy to cope with severe PTSD. In fact, I should pass all of the medical bills over to you since he's indisposed. How's his recovery going? He's just been transferred to a private long term care facility, hasn't he?"

"I…I haven't seen or talked to Andrew since everything happened…"

"Of course, you haven't because you can't gain anything from him right now except for dribbled applesauce, garbled speech, and dirty diapers."

"…I see that I came here at a bad time…"

"No, you've got great timing and I want you to spread the word when you go back to 1600 Penn: I am retired from Kingmaking and Campaigning. I don't have the time or the drive to do it anymore. Unless a one in a billion candidate shows up, I'm done and even if that one in a billion came to me now, I'd probably say no. I'm playing to my strengths and my greatest strength is Fixing. My People and Client Base deserve for me to put OPA first."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Olivia. We made a good team…"

"No, we didn't. Teams work together and treat each other like equals. I did the lion's share of the work while you benefited and treated me like an indentured servant. All personal reasons aside, my presence would be disastrous to your Optics. This is supposed to be your time to shine. That's how you've marketed yourself to the Public: **the long suffering Woman behind the Man finally emerging into the spotlight where she belongs.** Adding me to your Campaign will make it all about my history with Fitz and the Grant Administration, professionally and personally. It would be all about Fitz's legacy and your impact on it, win or lose. You'd get lost in the shuffle and any positive progress we'd make would be dismissed as nothing but nepotism. You'd be a punchline, seen as nothing more than a little girl playing dress up until the real Candidate takes the seat on the Hill. Is that what you want?"

"It wouldn't be like that…we could be partners. You could even be my running mate for the Presidency, later. You could Spin me to be…"

"You're right, I _**could**_ Spin you to be America's Salvation. I could spin you as a long overdue feminist breath of fresh air for the Nation. If I wanted to, I could Spin you onto the Hill and into the Oval with one hand tied behind my back because I'm just that good. But I _**don't**_ want to. I don't want to help you, Mellie. I am under no real obligation to help your Campaign and if you try to force me to help you, I'll ruin you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

" **Try me.** "

"Fitz would never let you…"

"Nobody _**lets**_ me do anything. I make my own choices and we both know that Fitz would thank me on his knees in more ways than one if I ended you. He's been trying to get rid of you for years but I wouldn't let him because all of my lovely Issues. That's changed now. If you come after me in any way, it will be Open Season on you, Mellie. You're just getting started. You still have a whole new political and social career ahead of you. Do you really want to risk all of your hopes and dreams just to keep your Prissy, Scarlett? Can't you get a new one? I'm sure Cyrus would man up and learn about birthin' babies just to keep his first class cabin on his favorite Gravy Train. I'm sure he'd do a passable Southern accent, too…"

"I don't have to stand here and take this disrespect from you!"

"What I just said to you is nothing compared to how you've talked to me over the years or how you talk to Fitz when you don't get your way. You're right, though. You don't have to stay here and listen to me. Just like you brought yourself into my place of business, you're free to leave at any time. I'd like that time to be now. Best of luck with your Campaign."

 _ **/**_

"Olivia, you've made excellent strides forward in your recovery but I have a question for you. You don't have to answer it immediately."

"What is it?"

"Why haven't you reached out to Fitzgerald, yet? You've reached out to all of the other positive people in the Plan you showed me. Why not him, too? What's stopping you?"

"I don't know."

"Olivia…"

"Linda, I've hurt him so much. I've been hurting him for so long and I just…I feel ashamed for that. I feel so awful and sad for what I've done to him. I used to be able to justify my actions as protecting him, protecting his Legacy but that's bullshit. I was protecting _**me**_. I wasn't thinking anyone's Legacy and needs but mine. Fitz hasn't done anything but try to love me and I tortured him for it. I've ran from him, I've yelled at him, I've hit him, I was with other men, one of whom he considered a close friend, I've betrayed him professionally, I've helped other people betray him in so many ways and I just…I haven't reached out to him since the Phone Call because I don't what to say or do. An apology is too weak, even a genuine one, and I don't want…I don't want to give him hope with my words, with my actions again and not be able to back it up. I don't want to start The Carousel again."

"The Carousel?"

"It's the cycle that I've established with him: we get together, it's good for a while, some sort of obstacle rises up, and I leave him, saying that it's for the best or he pushes me away and we both end up miserable. Not only that, we…mainly _**I**_ end up dragging other people into the mess and things get worse and worse until we find a way to get back together. We go around in circles and never make any real progress forward, just like a carousel. We've been doing it for years and I don't want to go back to that pattern. I want to make a new one, not just for my sake but for his. God, after what happened last time…"

"What happened last time?"

" _H-He tried to commit suicide._ He was devastated and he needed me so badly but I ran away. I didn't even say goodbye. He went to my apartment after 2 weeks and found it empty. He thought that I had been killed or Taken again and he… I know that he didn't do it just because of me but I know that I was the catalyst. I know that I was the straw that broke the camel's back. _**I know it**_."

"Has Fitzgerald told you that?"

"No, but I…I know it's true. People who were around at the time told me so and looking at all of the facts, I just…I can't hurt him again. I can't put him in that dark place again. I can't lose him. I love him so much and I don't want to lose him. If I ruin us again, he'll either break down completely or he'll give up on me and find someone else. I don't want him to do that. I want…I want to be happy. I want to have joy and he's a critical part of that."

"Then you need to let him have his say."

"What?"

"Olivia, you've made decisions about your relationship with Fitzgerald without consulting him, without talking to him and hearing him. You've said that to me more than once."

"Because it's true, Linda!"

"I know that and so do you, which is a good thing. You're acknowledging the unhealthy elements in your relationship and you're being proactive in dealing with them. However, it's not just on you. It takes everyone involved in a relationship to make decisions, especially when things are at a turning point. Olivia, you need to speak with him. You need to see him. You need to ask him what he wants and needs from you before you write him off or give up on your relationship entirely. I understand that you're afraid. I understand that you're ashamed and yes, there is a distinct possibility that he may end things with you but you still need to do it, if not just for closure."

"…but what if I'm right? What if the hurt is just too much? What if he can't forgive or trust me, anymore? What if he doesn't love me anymore? What if it's too late?"

"Then, at least you'll know where you stand with him."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Hey, everybody. I know it's been 84 years and 21 minutes and for that, I sincerely apologize. I'm ankle deep in my** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **catch up and my real life's been a little bit more hectic than I'd like it to be. Things are calming down now so hopefully, I can get back into the swing of things.**

 **As** _ **Shattering**_ **'s next A/N will emphasize, current events have also gotten to me, taking away a big chunk of my joy. The Shootings, the blatantly biased Media coverage, just all of the hate…more melanin doesn't make a person subhuman or irrelevant or unlovable. Black Lives shouldn't make a select group of assholes so uncomfortable, so hateful that we get harassed, hurt, and killed because of it but alas…damn. The World just sucks sometimes.**

 **I'm trying not to let it get me all the way down but I have to admit that I am scared, not for myself, not really but for my loved ones, especially my little brother. He's 14 going on 30 (and already shaving and taller than my 5'11 and a half self!), he loves to draw and play Smash Bros and he makes the most troll-tastic Mario Maker levels you'll ever play. He's a doll who loves all of us with a sarcastic streak 3 miles long (courtesy of yours truly) but to some closeminded people, to all corrupt cops, he's just a bulls-eye and it hurts.**

 **All I can do is keep going, though. I can't spend the rest of my life sad and scared. That would be like letting the bastards win and I'm not one for that.**

 **Thank you for your patience and enjoy the latest chapter. More** _ **SCANDAL**_ **updates are in the works and** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **stories will be posted soon.**

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

" _I called and set up an appointment to see Boaz on Thursday. Before, I would just show up to his place, to his job, expecting to be let in, expecting him to see me but…I want him to have a real say in things. It's always been me starting things, ending things,_ _ **complicating**_ _things between us. I've had all the control and that's not fair so it's his turn to…he should get to decide what happens next between us. He should decide whether we're friends, lovers, or if things have come to an end. I hope that it'll work out for the best and that he's still willing to have me in his life as at least a friend but I'm prepared if he doesn't. Honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if he told me that he was done with me. I would be hurt but after everything I did to him? It would serve me right if he told me to go straight to hell…"_

* * *

" _I'm glad that you're being realistic, Olivia. I am but you can't go into your talk with him tomorrow expecting rejection. From what you've told me, you've had a fatalistic attitude towards your relationship with Fitzgerald from the beginning and that's led to nothing but heartache for both of you. You have to let that attitude go. Have faith. Don't think about what you would do in his position. Don't think about what you feel he deserves. Think of_ _ **him**_ _. Think of your friendship with him, your romantic relationship with him. Has he ever given up on you?"_

" _No."_

" _Has he ever said that he hates you, even during your worst times?"_

" _No…well, he did one time when we still did 23 People Calls but it was playful…he didn't mean it. He once told me that love allows for forgiveness, that it can be bigger than any mistakes people can make but Linda…so many mistakes have been made since we had that conversation. He may not believe in that anymore. So much has changed in our lives since he said that, so much time's gone by…we've both changed so much."_

" _Yes, you have. Time does that, Olivia. Time and the experiences individuals go through during it, changes people but changing can be good, even if it's very difficult. You know that."_

" _I_ _ **do**_ _know that…I just… I want Fitz to still want me around and I certainly want him to still love me because I love him but I also want those desires to be good for him. Overall, loving me and wanting me around hasn't been very good for him. I want to be good for him…"_

 _ **/**_

The Providence Bunker was the best place for their meeting.

It was quiet, out of the way, soundproof, and very few people knew of it. Mellie was in New York for the next week, meeting with potential campaign donors and investors. Cyrus was at Camp David with Michael and Ella. Apparently, his doctor had ordered him to take 2 weeks off and had given him the choice of spending those 2 weeks in a hospital or somewhere peaceful of his own choosing. Of course, the doctor had recommended that he leave all electronics at home and not even think of politics but that would be like asking the old man not to breathe. Cyrus was truly a political animal. The Game was what made him happiest, the Power and the high stress lifestyle…

"Are you two gonna get back together?"

Abby Whelan had stayed near the stairs of the Bunker, practically vibrating with tension as time passed. The redhead was in a black pinstriped suit, the top underneath snow white and she was shifting on her feet, flexing her toes outside of her mile high black Louboutins. Olivia remembered all too well how tired her friend must be. The Grant Administration was always ankle to neck deep in some sort of crisis requiring long hours, mainlining coffee, and sleeping where you could. She had 72 hours of things to do in 12 with very little margin for error. Abby's phone chimed with notifications but her friend's blue eyes were locked on her, demanding answers, needing answers so she could plan accordingly.

Before, Olivia would be offended about anyone questioning her motives, her logic but another effect her Captivity had on her was giving her a large dose of needed humility. She was good at many things but far from infallible. She was flawed and it was okay to be flawed. It was okay for others to see her be flawed, be _**human**_ …

"Are you asking me as my friend or as The White House Press Secretary?"

"Both. Look, Liv…you've been my friend for years and now Fitz is my friend and my boss and I know that you two have some sort of crazy cosmic love connection but if this is just gonna fall apart like the other times, if you're gonna get scared and guilty and run off with Jake or some other asshole again…"

"I won't."

"I don't want Fitz to get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt. You're both been doing so good and I don't want you to shoot yourselves in the ass and to be honest, I really don't want this Administration to get hurt. I don't, especially since it's being held together by duct tape, tears, and bubble gum on a good day. You make and break him all of time, Liv and Fitz _**is**_ the Administration so whatever is or isn't going on, whatever you're gonna do with him, just…keep me posted, okay? I don't want all the dirty details but don't let me get caught with toilet paper stuck to my shoe, you know?"

"I won't, Abby and I'm not here to hurt him again. Not on purpose, anyway."

"Good. That's…good."

 _ **/**_

"Hi."

"…hi."

She had missed his face, his voice, everything about him. She hadn't seen him in person or talked to him at all since Cyrus' wedding. At first, it had been because she was trying to nail out a treatment plan, getting used to her therapies and medications but eventually, Olivia had kept her distance because of fear. In fact, many of the decisions, she made regarding the man in front of her had been fueled by fear. Fear of failure, fear of abandonment, fear of losing her reputation, fear of losing her Agency, just so much fear and it had led to so much pain, so much heartache for the both of them. Every time, she had told herself that it was for the best, that it was the right thing to do, the only sane thing to do but that was a lie. It was one of the many lies she had told herself so she could try (and fail) to sleep well at night…

The distance between them was eaten up in 4 long strides and Olivia was already reaching for him when she was enfolded in his strong arms. His body heat, the firmness of his body was apparent, even though his clothes. The blend of Aqua Velva, sandalwood, and spicy sweet that made up Fitz's scent surged into her nostrils like a long lost friend. Before she could stop it, a noise that could've been a laugh or sob escaped her, making her bury her face deeper in his shoulder.

" _Hi_.", she greeted again.

His reply was to squeeze her gently before placing her back on her feet.

"I'm so glad to see you, Livvie. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. I've been meaning to call you or come see you but I just…I had to…I meant what I said, Fitz. When we were all in the vestibule after I called you and I said that you were my choice and once I was stable enough, I'd be with you? I meant it. I still mean it and I…this isn't why I'm here. I'm doing all the talking and telling you what I want but that's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here, then?"

"I'm here because…I want to know what _**you**_ want. I want to know how you feel about me and us and where we should go next. I've been the one controlling us and I appreciate that. I appreciate you trusting me with us but Fitz? I've been running us off course and into the ground for years. I've been running your trust and heart into the ground and I don't want to do that, anymore. I've been taking away your say in things or ignoring it and…I'm here to listen. Whatever you want or don't want from me, I'm here to hear it, hear you and then, we can move forward, one way or the other."

"…what brought this on?"

She couldn't blame him for being dubious, even if it hurt. The Olivia Pope he had come to know and (hopefully still) love was not one for emotional conversations, especially when it came to matters of the heart. She was a Runner and a Deflector. She would find ways to avoid such heavy conversations and when she couldn't, she would do whatever it took to shut them down and get the hell out of dodge. Yet, here she was in front of him, kicking over the Pandora's Box-esque can of worms.

"It goes back to when I was Gone…when They had me, when I thought that I was going to be killed, all I could think about were the choices I made, the people I hurt, the regrets I had. Mainly, I thought about you and us and why we spend most of our time unhappy and apart. It's my fault."

"Not completely."

"I know but it's mostly my fault and that should change so what do you want, Fitz?"

"You."

"As a friend or as more?"

"Both."

"Even now? After everything we've been through? After everything I dragged you through?"

"Olivia, you're my best friend and I love you. You are still and will always be the love of my life. I want a future with you."

"Okay but where would that future be? Would it be in Vermont with me making jam and you as the mayor? Is that still the endgame?"

"We could be anywhere, really. As long as we're together, I don't care. We don't have to be in Vermont. We could sell the House and pick someplace new. I don't have to be the mayor and you don't have to make jam and have babies, if you don't want to. And hell, you burn water, Livvie. How are you gonna make edible jam?"

"Actually, Mister, I am a very good cook and I've never burned water. I could learn how to make edible and delicious jams easily but I see where you're going with this. In a perfect world, we could definitely pull off being the Mayor and the Jam Maker with at least 4 kids but we don't live in a perfect world. We have to be realistic. The Vermont House is there and I want to live in it with you but the rest of the concept needs work."

"You'd be a better mayor than I would and 4 kids are a bit much, don't you think?"

"Yeah. If we did go that route, unless I had quadruplets, we'd be well into our 80s before our youngest graduates from high school. Well, _**you**_ would be, anyway. How about we start with one of our own and do our best to make a healthy and happy blended family with Karen and Teddy? I mean, if they're willing to try…Teddy's young and doesn't really understand what's going on so he could adapt but Karen? She understands everything and then some."

"She does. She's mad at me for cheating with you but not nearly as pissed off as she is at Mellie for Andrew. She caught them…"

"I _**know**_ what she saw them doing, Fitzgerald. I was there and it was horrifying."

"I should've killed him or forced him to resign, then. Maybe you wouldn't have been Taken if I had."

"No…thinking back on it, what happened to me was inevitable. If it wasn't warmongering rutting Republicans, then it would've been someone else. I've made a lot of enemies and so has Rowan. People aren't stupid. There aren't a lot of black Popes out there and it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to realize that I'm Command's daughter, especially if a weaker Operative in his Inner Circle was leaned on or paid off, one of his 'Sons'..."

"Jake?"

"He's the prime suspect, especially now that I've cut off all contact with him."

"You have?"

"Yes. He's always gonna Rowan's bitch whether he likes it or not and even if he somehow managed to get free and live, he's just not good for me, Fitzgerald. He never has been but I was stupid and scared so I let myself be his Damsel and occasional punching bag. I kept on using him and I feel like shit for it, not nearly as shitty as I feel for what I've done to you but still…"

"Still."

Warm silence fell between them and Olivia glanced between her white ballet flats and Fitz, trying to reconcile what was going on in her head. She had expected an outright rejection or for one or both of them to be yelling, screaming, crying right now but the conversation, as heavy as it was, was civil, friendly even. They were just being them, reminding her of how they used to talk on The Trail, when she was the Press Secretary in the early days, or during the 23 People Calls. Reality drove Linda's words from yesterday home. Not everything had to be a Worst Case Scenario, not everything had to be a melodrama…sometimes, even the hardest things could be simple at the Core. She had built this Meeting up to be a big bad monster under the bed but really….

"I'm an idiot. I should've just talked to you like this sooner. We'd be much better off."

"Like I said, it's not completely on you, Liv. I could've and should've done this. We're both to blame for where we are right now."

"True…so, what happens now?"

"You keep doing what you're doing. You're healing, Olivia and you're so much happier than you were, even before you were Taken. There's…there's a peace about you now and that should be cherished. As for us? I say that we take things a day at a time. There's some housekeeping to do on both of our ends but as long as we keep talking like this, as long as there's love between us…"

"There is. I love you."

"I love you, too…we'll work it out, Olivia. We _**will**_ be together."

"…and it's gonna be great."

"…and it's gonna be great."


	6. A Personal Note to All Readers

**To all those reading and wondering where I've been:** It's been a crazy few months. I've had some issues with my laptop files and as I've mentioned before, my little sister Sara was diagnosed with cancer last fall. My Sara Elizabeth, my Bunny had an inoperable brain tumor and after 16 months of fighting, of enduring hell, she passed away yesterday morning. It was…heartbreaking is the best word I've got to describe it but at the same time, my Bunny is now at peace. Her cancer ( **DIPG, if you want to look it up…I wouldn't recommend it. It's brutal** ) took away a lot of her joy, her fire, and her body turned against her towards the end.

She was _**surviving**_ , not living and although I will miss the hell out of her, I am so glad that she's free and with my faith, I know that not only will I see her again, I know that when I do she will be happy, healthy, and most likely making me run like hell after her while she rides her bike like Tony Hawk's cousin. LOL!

" **Why are you making me run, woman? You know I'm in the wrong bra for this!"**

" **Quit complaining and keep up, Grumpy Bunny!"**

Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm still around in fandom and I still intend to keep writing. I've frequently said that writing helps to anchor me and Sara would totally kick my ass if I gave up something that I genuinely adore to do. **All she wanted in her last days were to 1) not be alone in a hospital as she passed (which she wasn't, thank God. We were all there for her) and 2) for us all to live and be happy. So, that's what I'm gonna do.**

 **One day at a time.**

 **I miss my girl so much but it's gonna be okay. In the now immortal words of Kendrick Lamar: we gon' be all right.**

I'm working on another super long TWD fic right now but I'll be returning to the WIPs (yes, all of them) as soon as I get the files on my new laptop.

 **Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills (or Pythons and Sketti Rings to The Walking Dead folks) to all of you, ~*CMW2/Trumpetnista*~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I'm so happy to be back and I want to thank all of you for your love, your patience, and your support through these last few months. I've missed my writing so much and having access to a fully functioning writing computer is something that I will never take for granted again.**

 **Season 6 came through for me in many unexpected ways but it makes me sad that Liv still hasn't gotten the mental tending she needs. It seems that Season 7,** _ **the last season ever**_ **, will be the one where she finally has her long overdue psychotic break & I really hope that we can actually see her get help. I mean, she **_**just**_ **took Command and the Darkness already has deep roots. Granted, there are only 18 eps left and** _ **So. Many. Loose. Ends.**_ **but goddamn it, Olivia Pope is the leading lady (** _ **not**_ **Mellie, Shonda. Fuck off.) and she deserves a good endgame, not to mention Fitz. They're saying that there's gonna be a major death & **_**I swear to God**_ **...**

 **Hope for sense, expect utter bullshit. That's been my motto for the show since 3B and it's worked for this long. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Whatever happens in canon, we will always have fanfic and that is comforting. More WIP updates are coming, as well as Draftbook Drabble 40. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

 _"Olivia..."_

 _"_ _ **Don't.**_ _"_

 _"Liv, I..."_

 _"I don't want to hear it. You've said and done enough tonight. Hang up the phone."_

 _"You don't understand..."_

 _"I understand enough. Jake, you owe me 450 dollars. 150 was to keep him from calling the police on you and the rest was to help cover his medical costs. I want my money by Monday and_ _ **this**_ _? This is done. Whatever new assignment Rowan gave you is done. You're off duty, Son and good luck explaining this to him. Maybe he'll just exile you to Switzerland instead of putting you back in The Hole or into a shallow grave."_

 _"Rowan didn't assign me to do anything. He has no say in what I do now. I'm free."_

 _"You really believe that? You really expect_ _ **me**_ _to believe that? Okay."_

 _"...Olivia, the guy back there wasn't just a photographer, he was a PI hired by BNC and TMZ. He's been following you around for weeks and he had notes on a story about you going to your Group sessions. He found your therapist's office building and even got copies of all of the prescriptions that you're on and... I was just trying to protect you and your business. Reputation is everything in DC. Image is everything. You know that better than anyone. I mean, I'm glad that you're getting better but still, no one is going to hire a Crisis or Campaign Manager whose..."_

 _"_ _ **Crazy**_ _. That's the word you were going to use, right? I'm just_ _ **so**_ _crazy and just_ _ **so**_ _helpless, aren't I? I can't even tie my shoes or wipe my nose without someone holding my hand, isn't that right? I'm just_ _ **so**_ _pathetic and let's be honest: you're not happy about me healing at all because you can't benefit from it."_

 _"That's not even_ _ **close**_ _to true!"_

 _"...okay."_

 _"It's_ _ **not**_ _, Olivia! I really care about you and..."_

 _"...you have a very bad way of showing it. Huck will be at your place on Monday. Don't make him have to look for you. Goodbye, Jake."_

 _"Liv..."_

 _"_ _ **Goodbye**_ _, Jake."_

* * *

"I'm retired from Politics, Cyrus. I'm a Fixer, not a King or Queen Maker. I'm done."

"Look, I know that you and Mellie have a past but there's a chance for History to be made here and..."

"Has Susan Ross decided to leave DC? I hope not. She's already doing a fantastic job as Vice President. America's future is in good hands."

"I'm not talking about the Oval. I'm talking about Virginia."

"It is _**always**_ about the Oval with you. You want Mellie in there next. You want a Grant Dynasty."

"She could be a great President, Liv. She just needs a little polish..."

"What she needs is a lot of nepotism, handholding and conniving, not polish. She isn't Fitz, Cyrus. Mellie is unqualified. She has no political experience or capital of her own. She graduated top of her class at Harvard and passed the Bar with flying colors, which is nothing to scoff at but it's not enough. The Oval is not going to happen for her yet. It may not even happen at all. If she really wants to be President, then she needs to put on her big girl panties and pay her dues. She can't cut corners, cheat, or ride on someone's coat tails, this time. She needs to legitimately get the job as Virginia's Junior Senator, do the job correctly for at least 4 years, and _**then**_ she can run for President. She also needs to establish a more humble and approachable image, not to mention that she's still only known as Fitz's wife. Contrary to popular belief, being First Lady isn't just being arm candy and a Stepford Wife in red and pearls. You can do a lot of good, powerful things as FLOTUS but Mellie hasn't taken advantage of that opportunity, not really... don't give me that look. I'm not telling you things that you don't already know, Cyrus."

"...you're right. I just...can you really walk away from it all? The Game?"

"Not walking away from The Game when I should have has led to me losing some of my closest friends, breaking my own heart by constantly hurting those who are still around to love me, neglecting my business, and losing a good portion of my sanity. I'm finally recovering. I'm stronger than I've been in a long time and I have absolutely no intention of setting myself back, especially not for _**Mellie**_ of all people. She wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire so why the hell should I go out of my way to help her? I've done more than enough for her. She doesn't deserve any more of my time or effort and to be honest, she doesn't deserve any more of yours and Fitz's either. She's always said that she's been held back, that we and the whole world has done nothing but conspire to take away her dreams. She's said that she is a political animal that can handle herself no matter what so let her prove it. Let her earn her place in the sun all by herself. As for your future, instead of trying to make a Grant Dynasty, I say that you should back Susan's campaign for the Oval when it kicks off or go and hook up with Frankie Vargas out of Pennsylvania if you want to switch Parties. _**They**_ are the Candidates for '16. _**They**_ are who America deserves to represent them after Fitz is done. Mellie is nothing. People like Hollis Doyle and Donald Trump are more qualified to lead than her and that's both very sad and downright terrifying. What a time we live in, huh?"

"I thought you said that you were retired from Politics."

"I _**am**_ but that doesn't mean that I don't keep up with things. How's the Brandon Bill going?"

"Slowly. They're fighting like cats and dogs over every word."

"Figures. Don't give up on it, though. It's needed legislation and it will be Fitz's Legacy when it passes. It'll be his New Deal, his Medicaid, his Interstate System, his Moon Landing. You'll see."

"Speaking of Fitz..."

"We can talk about Fitz when we talk about Michael."

"...right. I just...I noticed that he's been happier and more much focused, lately. I know that you came to see him a couple of weeks ago so I was wondering if you two were..."

" **It's none of your business, Cyrus.** "

"I'm asking as your friend, not as his Chief of Staff, Liv."

"Asking questions as my friend can and will lead to you interfering as his Chief of Staff where you have no right or business doing so. It's happened before and it won't be happening again. What is and isn't going on between Fitz and I is between us and only us now. That's how it should've been from the start but I wasn't ready for it to be like that. Now, I am. Finish your coffee before it gets cold."

To accent her words, Olivia drank the last of her hot chocolate and kept her gaze straight ahead. Sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial gave them both a prime view of the Washington Monument, highlighted by the Saturday morning sun. Cyrus had texted her after her run, wanting to know if she could meet him to catch up.

Saturday was her off day. Unless there was a catastrophic emergency, she was to be left alone.

She would go on a run and then, depending on her mood, she'd go home to relax or she'd pick someplace to hang out for the day. The Monuments, the museums (sans the Smithsonian), her favorite gym for boxing & swimming, and she had joined the evening Bikram Yoga classes at the rec center that housed her Group sessions. That was how she discovered what Jake had done to the reporter. She had hurried over to help just in time to see him fleeing into the night and the groaning man coughing up blood on the pavement...

"Just...be careful with whatever the hell you're doing now, all right? Both of you."

"Because we could bring the Republic for which we stand crashing down and end up ruining countless lives for having the nerve to love and want the best for each other, even in secret?"

"...because I never want to see either of you hurting like you've been ever again."

As if letting air out of a balloon, the piss and vinegar in her body language drained away. After a long beat of silence, Olivia scooted over on the step they were sharing and put her head on Cyrus' shoulder. For all of his flaws and manipulating, Cyrus Beene was still one of her closest friends, her mentor. He was a member of her family, as dysfunctional and twisted as it was at times. He _**did**_ care for her, even loved her in his own Cyrus way and she couldn't forget that.

Cyrus Beene was a Monster but he was _**her**_ Monster, Fitz's too.

"Sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've given you plenty of reasons not to trust me over the years."

"An encyclopedia's set worth of reasons."

Another long beat and then both of them laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I'm glad that I started writing this story because in order to endure the state of Olivia Pope's character in canon, everything possible needs to be done to fix it in fanfic because Lord knows that it ain't gonna happen. Either that or it'll happen in the last 3 episodes of the series so SR can bullshit a happy ending so Netflix doesn't wise up and fire her quickly.**

 **Have I mentioned how glad I am that soon, I and other good people will never have to see a new Shondaland show on Network TV?**

 **Anyway, my full thoughts on Liv and 705 will be in** _ **Shattering**_ **'s next A/N but let me just say this: all of what's going down better lead to one** _ **HELL**_ **of a Redemption Arc come the back half of the season or sooner because ending** _ **SCANDAL**_ **with the Olivia Pope I'm looking at would be absolutely UNACCEPTABLE. It would be a goddamned shame and a case could be made for a crime. Bait and Switch is a crime. Seriously, SR better swallow her pride and Fix Liv or just kill her off in the endgame.** _ **Enough.**_

 **Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"Fitz, what's going on? Why are you whispering?"

 _"I'm hiding in the Residence from Mellie. She thinks I'm still in the Oval."_

"Are you seriously hiding from your wife?"

 _"Olivia, she is drunk off moonshine, eating fried shrimp, and she's singing showtunes..._ _ **butchering**_ _showtunes and... the last time she drank like this, she actually asked me to have sex with her on the dining room table and I just..._ _ **yes, I'm seriously hiding from my wife**_ _. I'm scared and hiding and I'm waiting for her to pass out."_

"You poor, poor soul...should I send some earplugs? Gettysburger? An Exorcism kit?"

 _"...you're not funny."_

"I'm funnier than _**you**_."

Fitz's laughter was warm in her ear and she sighed, walking towards her office windows. She could see the White House in the distance, brightly lit and beautiful. Fitz had once referred to it as the Crown Jewel of the American Prison System and that label had merit. Yes, the White House was beautiful. Yes, being the President of the United States was a great honor, the pinnacle of Power but it changed everything.

There was no true privacy. Everywhere a President went, there were Agents, staff, members of the Press around. There was always a bubble. A President couldn't just go grocery shopping or just go and get a new phone without a big to-do. There were always schemers around, people who would stab you in the back just to get a slightly bigger piece of the pie. Every person had to be vetted. No one, not even family could be trusted.

It was one of the most noble and truly one of the loneliest Jobs in the world.

And if it wasn't the President themselves being targeted, it was their loved ones.

Gerry Grant had been murdered by Rowan because of his connection to Fitz, his connection to her. Karen Grant had been recorded and blackmailed while under the influence, while having sex because she was the President's daughter. The conspiracy to kidnap her had been in the name of the Presidency. Andrew Nichols and Elizabeth North had wanted the Power by any means necessary. Rowan had wanted Power and revenge for a perceived unreasonable slight against him. Fitz hadn't done anything wrong. Gerry hadn't done anything wrong. Karen hadn't done anything wrong and Olivia was growing to accept that she hadn't done anything wrong, either. She hadn't been the one to murder Gerry Grant, to put the sick idea into Rowan's mind. She hadn't asked to be kidnapped. She didn't deserve to be kidnapped, despite all the things she had done.

 **It wasn't her fault.**

 **It wasn't her fault.**

 **Not every bad thing that happened was her fault.**

 **It was** _ **not**_ **her fault and it** _ **certainly**_ **wasn't Fitz's fault,** despite what she had screamed to the contrary.

To monsters like Rowan, it wasn't about people, not as more than pieces on their chess boards.

It was all about hoarding & abusing Power. It was all about creating Legacies that they could leech off of. It was all about soothing their malignant egos, regardless of who or what was destroyed...

"If it helps, she didn't really lose by a large margin. She had good numbers. She could try again in a few years, maybe even sooner. Seats open up all of the time and once you're out of Office..."

 _"You know she doesn't care about any of that."_

"What? Facts?"

 _"You might be hearing from her soon, Livvie. She made it pretty clear who she blames for this."_

"You, me, Cyrus, God, Satan, the weather, the Patriarchy, a random passerby who just couldn't get to the Voter's Booth and secure her rightful place in history..."

Fitz snickered and she continued unrepentantly, "She can blame me and the World all she wants. I don't care. I told her that I wasn't going to help her. I told her that my helping her would be seen as nothing more than nepotism and that she needed to wait, build up her own political capital, and come up with a more approachable image. She didn't want to. She didn't want to put the work in. She wanted to cut corners. She wanted everyone to do the heavy lifting for her and give her cue cards so she could reap the benefits, just like before. I was right to say no and she was right to lose."

" _Consider it Handled_."

"Exactly."

" _Are you still at the office?"_

"Not for much longer. I wanted to help with the paperwork. You know how it is. Get rid of one stack..."

 _"...and three more appear. How is Quinn working out as Second in Command?"_

"It's good. It's really good, Fitz...I'm glad that she stayed. She had every right to leave."

 _"OPA is her home. You and your Gladiators are home for her."_

Olivia nodded and sighed again, looking wistfully at 1600 Penn...

"I wish I was there with you or that you were here with me."

 _"You_ _ **really**_ _don't want to be here right now, Liv. She's gone from showtunes to Dolly Parton. Poor Jolene..."_

She laughed and replied, "That's not what I meant and you know it, Mister."

 _"...I know. It'll happen, Livvie. We'll make it happen."_

"I hope so. Well, tomorrow night, if you're still alive, I'd love to hear from you. Just don't make 23 people have to stay, okay?"

 _"All right. Bye, Liv."_

"...bye."

It was still a bit of a novelty to be leaving OPA at a reasonable hour. By the time she got to her apartment, it would be a little past 8PM instead of midnight or in the pre-dawn hours. She would be able to watch live TV if she wanted to. She could watch actual, non DVR'd TV shows instead of the news, infomercials, or porn. She wouldn't feel strange about cooking or ordering in at an odd hour. She would be able to go to her apartment and actually relax.

She had taken some of the weight of the world off of her shoulders. Olivia was still The Fixer, the go-to for help when it hit the fan, but it wasn't all on her. It had _**never**_ been all on her but she was accepting help now, allowing herself to trust and delegate...

…but never drop her guard.

Exiting the elevator, Olivia could see that her apartment door was slightly ajar. It wasn't supposed to be ajar. She had locked it before she left and she wasn't expecting company. Huck was at his Veteran's Group therapy session with Quinn supporting him. Marcus was meeting with some representatives from Jack and Jill, trying to get their support behind adding classes to teach inner city youth about their Rights. Abby was at the White House. She had texted her earlier about Cyrus' latest antics and the ongoing battle for the Brandon Bill. She had just talked to Fitz and as much as she wished that he was inside her place right now, he wasn't. He was hiding from Mellie in what sounded to be a walk-in closet, possibly a bathroom like last time.

That didn't leave many options left for who could be inside.

The options she had to choose from were all bad.

Slowly, she set her bag down and pulled out her Colt .45, fighting through the icy fear that was creeping down her spine. Whoever was in her place had to go. Whether they would run for it or she would have to put a bullet in them before calling the police remained to be seen. She was licensed to carry and even though there were no signs of a robbery in progress, it wouldn't take much to...

Shaking her head, she made sure the gun was loaded before sliding out of her heels. If she had to run or hide, she didn't want anything slowing her down. Seeing movement, she pushed the door open and raised the gun. As soon as the person turned around, she undid the safety, the icy fear replaced with hot rage.

"Get the hell out!"

"Liv..."

"Get out of my apartment, Jake. **Now**."

"You won't shoot..."

A vase behind him shattered and she quickly loaded another bullet, thankful for the silencer.

"You broke in here after I told you to leave me alone. I can and _**will**_ shoot you. Get out."

"I'm not the enemy here, Olivia! I brought you some dinner and..."

"I'm not hungry. Take the food and go. This is the last time I'm going to say it."

"Look, I know that I shouldn't have broken in but I've been worried about you. You won't take my calls. You won't answer my texts and when I tried to come see you at your office, I couldn't even get past the front door before Michael..."

"His name is _**Marcus**_."

"...stopped me. What did you tell him about me? What did you say to all of them?"

"Nothing other than if you came in, I didn't want to see you."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"...you and Fitz aren't going to last forever. You never do."

"Fitz has nothing to do with this. It's about you and the fact that you're not a good influence in my life. You're dangerous. You're unstable. You're B613. You're Rowan's puppet, his loyal little lapdog that he can order around at whim. You may think that you're free now, that he's forgotten all about you and maybe he has but _**I**_ haven't. I know who you really are, Jake. I've seen who you really are and you are not someone that I want around me as a friend or as a lover, anymore. Now, I've got 5 more bullets and the next one is going in your head if you don't leave."

"You would kill me right now?"

"...not _**that**_ head, Jake."

"Olivia..."

"Leave and if I find any cameras in here or any of my things tampered with..."

"You're paranoid. You need to get some help."

"I _**am**_ getting help. You just can't benefit from it. _**Leave!**_ "

Jake flinched as a pillow exploded in feathers behind him and headed for the door, deliberately leaving the food on the counter. Although he was acting like he had made her a 5 course meal, it was Gettysburger and imported beer. The Gettysburger she didn't really mind but she _**hated**_ beer. He _**knew**_ that! He also knew that breaking in would make her uncomfortable, possibly trigger a full on panic attack but he didn't care. He was feeling scorned, feeling childish so he had pushed as many buttons as he could to get her attention.

He had gotten her attention but Olivia was certain that Jake had imagined a far different outcome.

He only cared about her when she was saving his fat from the fire or fucking him to forget.

Unless she was doing that, she was nothing to him, regardless of what he said.

His actions were his Truth.

Had he always been this immature?

As soon as he was in the vestibule, she slammed the door in his face and listened closely. He could decide to wait her out. He could decide to come back later, while she was sleeping and...

" _ **Damn it!**_ "

From the sound of it, Jake had punched the doors of the elevator as they closed and she was relieved that the fist hadn't touched her. Jake had pushed and choked her before. He had concussed her and pushed her into a puddle of glass shard filled water. He had pinned her to the wall by her throat in broad daylight. Punching her would be the next logical step in abusing her.

Some of their conversations involved manipulation on both of their ends. Nowadays, they ended with him yelling at her, judging her like the hypocrite he was or trying to derail her healing. Jake was dangerous. On more than one occasion, he had proven to be dangerous, lacking in humanity. Essentially, Jake Ballard (or whatever his real name was) was nothing more than a broken, rabid beast in human skin.

The fact that she had known all of that and yet still allowed him to touch her, be inside of her, and to be around her family & friends was even more proof of how disturbed she had become. How much farther would she have fallen had she not reached out to Fitz that night? If she had gone through with being Alex Jones, how much worse off would she be?

She didn't want to think about it.

She didn't want to think about hating herself and those around her that much.

Opening the door, she grabbed her bag and quickly went back inside, turning all of her locks. Jake had broken in. Only she and Huck had the keys. Huck wouldn't turn his over to Jake without her express say-so, a say-so that he'd never get again. As a matter of fact, she was tempted to call Huck and tell him what happened but that idea was quickly shelved. Part of delegating was allowing her people to have lives outside of the job. Yes, there was a rule that everyone had to be reachable and that after a certain amount of time, there was to be a search party formed.

What happened to Harrison, what Rowan had done to Harrison had been unavoidable but if she had followed the rule, if she had been thinking about more than herself, then Harrison's body would've been found sooner. However, it was no longer all about Fixing for herself or her People. And Huck was doing something at the moment to help himself get better. Olivia was not going to hinder that. That wouldn't be fair.

Still, something decisive had to be done about Jake Ballard.

It could wait until the morning.

For now, she had trash to throw out and a mess to clean up.


End file.
